


Fell!Cats Do it Better

by Kamari333



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cats, Gen, Underfell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 16:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12040092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kamari333/pseuds/Kamari333
Summary: You, a human, go and adopt a couple of edgy kitties so you won't feel so lonely anymore.You get more than you bargained for, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing.Aren't all cats a little magical anyway?





	1. Adoption Day

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Spooky Scary Skele-Kitties!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7482507) by [Optima_chama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Optima_chama/pseuds/Optima_chama), [UltimateGamer101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateGamer101/pseuds/UltimateGamer101). 
  * Inspired by [A CATastrophe Waiting to Happen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10881633) by [UltimateGamer101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateGamer101/pseuds/UltimateGamer101). 



> This work only exists because of [Optima_chama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Optima_chama/pseuds/Optima_chama) and [UltimateGamer101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateGamer101/pseuds/UltimateGamer101), whose own skeleton cat fics inspired me.
> 
> I wasn't supposed to start any more new stories until I finished one of my old ones. But, oh, look at this, inspiration smacking me in the face for another shitty crack fic.
> 
> Blame _them._ I do.
> 
> ~~No but I love these guys, they're great, go read their stuff if you haven't already!~~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So you go and pick out some new furry roommates to fill the void left in your house and your heart.

You wanted a pet.

You were sick of being lonely. It had been a year since your late cat had died (a handsome fellow who had been your companion and protector since you were small), and while the loss still stung, and you knew they could never be replaced, you wanted, _needed_ , something to help fill the void. You didn't expect anything like the bond you had made with your late cat (how could you? it seemed ridiculous that anyone could form a bond like that more than once in a lifetime), but you could at least fill the void and the silence of your empty house, and perhaps have another warm body to hug once or twice a week.

So that was why you were at the animal shelter.

You walked up to the disgruntled teenager manning the front desk. He was playing with one of the many bandaids which littered the whole of both his forearms, a sour expression on his face. You watched impassively for a few moments, then gently rapped on the countertop to get his attention. "I want to adopt. May I peruse the kennels please?"

The volunteer looked you up and down, taking in your rumpled clothing that you didn't care enough to change. "Cats or dogs?"

You thought about it a moment. As much as you loved dogs, you were certainly not a dog person. Dogs needed to be walked and required lots of exercise, which you were less than a fan of. "Cats, if you please," you answered.

The volunteer came out from around the counter, picking up a ring of keys and leading you to one of the back rooms. Inside were a number of cage like sections, each filled with any number of small furry creatures. They were mostly well stocked, with soft padding for sleeping and a litter box for their business, and food and water dispensers. As hard as you tried to hide it, a part of you lit up at the sight of such adorable creatures. You could feel your vocal chords tense in preparation for that obnoxious high pitched baby talk you always did in greeting, feel your fingers itch to scratch at their soft fur as you cooed and praised their magnificence.

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to remain in control. You couldn't take them _all_ home, as much as you might want to. One, maybe two, was your limit. You started to march slowly down the walkway, eyeing the inhabitants of each enclosure, scrutinizing their every move, feeling out their personalities as best you could. You stopped to read a few of the commentary notes left by the volunteers who took care of them, and while a few looked like good candidates (apparently the one dubbed 'Snowball III' was a cuddler), your eye was immediately caught by the two lone figures in the back corner of the last enclosure.

There, in the very back, sitting on the concrete floor with the haughty air of well deserved pride, was a large, sleek black-and-white bicolor cat with a scar over it's right eye, although the burgundy colored organ itself appeared untouched by trauma. You had never seen a cat with eyes like that, neither the specific color nor the unmistakable intelligence behind them. Its head was white, and that coloration stretched down towards its neck, cutting off where its fur was suddenly dyed red. The red cut around it's throat in a complete cirle, separating the white of its head from the black of its body, which stretched down and out until its feet; the forepaws colored white, the hind paws dyed red. Its ears were laid flat, indicating its unease and aggravation, its tail swishing behind it violently, but its posture was almost regal, straight back and puffed out chest, its nose upturned as it loured at the world around it with obvious disapproval.

Sprawled lazily in front and a little to the side of that cat, was another cat, much shorter in length, but broader in body. It was a black-white-and-orange tricolor, mostly black in body like it's companion, with white forepaws and head. Its hind paws had also been dyed red, as had much of its chest fur. There were two orange stripes that ran along it's side and three-fourths of the way down the outside of each hind leg, reminding you of racing stripes or track shorts. Its left ear was severely damaged, a large chunk of the tip ripped off, and a long thin scar ran across its right eye and down towards its muzzle. It opened its eyes, seemingly choosing that precise moment to awaken from its nap, and looked back at you. The left eye was a crimson brown, seemingly more red than its companions, but its right eye was completely white. It yawned, stretching its jaw wide, and you caught sight of glinting metal, where its left top canine had been replaced with a copper (or gold?) implant.

The volunteer stood back quietly as you watched them, then coughed. "You looking at the two in the back? We picked them up a few days ago off the street. They're practically feral..."

You looked back at him, raising an eyebrow. "With a coat like that? Dye-job aside, they are practically pristine. Don't look feral to me."

"Thats because you never tried giving them a bath," the volunteer deadpanned. "They are monsters. Furry little monsters. I wouldn't be surprised if we put them down soon..."

You felt yourself grow cold, and a fluttering of panic took shape in your chest. "I'll take them." You said quickly. You couldn't let perfectly healthy animals be put down because of a few behavioral issues. It wasn't fair. _Humans weren't put down for being broken._ "Now. Both of them."

The volunteer looked at you as though you had grown a second head. "I told you, they're not good. I must recommend you pick another-"

"I said I want _them_ ," You insisted, firmly, pointing at the two cats to get your point across. "Now are you going to bring them out for me, or am I going in for them myself?"

The boy hesitated. "I'll go get a crate... but, uh, you can put them in there..." He unlocked the enclosure door, letting you in to get to know your new charges, before scurrying of to get the crate.

You smiled, feeling triumphant, and carefully made your way closer to the kitties in the corner. You took special care not to walk towards them directly, keeping your body faced away from them and your steps light. Both cats set their sights on you the moment you entered the enclosure, and you could see their hackles already raised. It made your heart hurt. They must have had horrible experiences with humans to react that badly to one on sight.

You approached more carefully, coming to a stop a few feet away, and settled down on your butt to regard them with a soft smile. You thought it would be best if they chose to close the distance between you themselves. "Hi there," you said, keeping your tone as gentle and soothing as you could, holding your hand out to them, palm up. "I'm _______, nice ta meet ya!" You weren't speaking with a human, so you didn't bother with enunciating properly. "How about you guys come home with me? Sound good?"

The two felines regarded you with those incredible eyes. Both began to growl, the smaller one deep and low and strong, the taller one more vocal, like it was meowing menacingly. You kept your body language as relaxed and open as possible. After a while, the smaller cat got up, stretching, and began to approach you, his fur bushing from anxiety as he got closer.

The taller cat suddenly struck the smaller cat upside the head, hissing, looming and growling with authority, the paw he attacked with still poised in the air in an obvious threat. The smaller cat let out a surprised yelp, turning swiftly to look back at his companion, wide eyed as he made himself seem as small as possible, submitting.

You couldn't help but giggle. Watching cats establish a hierarchy amongst themselves (and other animals) was always amusing. You couldn't help rooting for them, tiny adorable furballs of terror that they were. "You tell 'em, boss," you said without thinking, your mind combining the phrases _'you tell them,'_ and _'show them who's boss,'_ both of which you had used many times in the past in similar situations.

The two cats stopped, looking back at you with identical expressions of what you could only interpret as surprise (and from the taller one, pleasure). You grinned. "What, is that your name? Boss?" The taller cat put his upraised paw down, regarding you more intently. You grinned wider. "It suits ya, don't it? The way ya move, ya just feel like a 'Boss'. Bet nobody fucks with _you_ , huh? Not unless they want their blood in yer fur." As you spoke, you noticed a faint rumbling noise. The taller cat (whom you could only regard as 'Boss' now) was purring, his tail angled and hooked in the unspoken sign of feline satisfaction.

Just then the door opened and the volunteer came in, carrying a large cloth cat carrier. He set it down next to you. "Are you _sure_ you want _these_ little monsters?" He asked, one more time.

Boss' purring stopped, and his fur bristled, his tail swishing again in irritation as he regarded the volunteer with undisguised ire. You looked at him, not bothering to mask your own feelings on the matter. "Who in their right mind would _not_ want such handsome cats?" You looked back at Boss, smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry, Boss. Some people just don't have an eye fer quality." You drew your hand back patting the carrier gently. "Hows about I get you guys outa here? This is no place fer you. I can't guarantee my house will meet yer standards, but it's gotta be better than here, right?" You unzipped the top flap of the carrier, making it easy to place the intended passengers inside, and reached out again, slowly, to scoop up Boss with as much reverence and care as possible.

Boss, to everyone's surprise, allowed it. You smiled down at him, taking a moment to bask in his warmth as he settled in your arms, before setting him down carefully in the carrier. You stroked his back, which elicited a growl, but you couldn't blame him. You two had just met, after all, so he might not be comfortable enough around you for extended contact. Boss situated himself at one end of the carrier, sitting and folding his paws neatly, with a dignity and grace that would make anyone think it was his idea to get in the carrier. It made you smile, because a part of you believed that it was, in fact, his idea.

You turned back around to pick up Boss' lazier companion (his brother now, if not before). The smaller cat growled at your touch, but he didn't fuss as you carefully placed him in the carrier too. "Watch yer heads, okay? And I promise, I'll try ta make this ride as smooth as possible." You got another rumbling growl in response, but the chubby cat (and he _was_ a little chubby, especially compared to his lithe, muscular brother) settled with no trouble, shifting to get comfortable in the confines of the relatively small container.

You smirked triumphantly at the volunteer, who was gaping at you, as you closed the top flap. "See? I told you, they are _purr_ fectly lovely creatures."

You probably imagined the snickering you heard from the container as you lifted it up, but you didn't imagine the yowl of protest. You worried that maybe you had jostled your furry friends too much, and strived to make the ride more pleasant as you walked out of the enclosure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you probably guessed, Boss is in fact, kitty-ified Underfell Papyrus. And you just played up to his ego without even meaning to.


	2. Welcome Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You bring your new kitties home, and come to terms with your Crazy Cat Lady tendencies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all of you who commented, and Flox29 in particular who learned me a new thing which got mentioned here.

You paid the fee for your new feline friends, taking the depressingly small file with their limited information and medical history. Going back out to your car, and carefully placing the carrier in the back seat, you began to worry that you might need to take them to the vet.

You got into the front, closing the door and quickly perusing the file. As you suspected, they were both male. No fleas (surprisingly), no ticks, no injuries other than the obvious ones, and those long healed over. The chubby one did have a wonky eye, but there were indications that said his overall vision was unimpaired. They were both tri-colors (Boss had a small patch of orange on his belly that you hadn't seen, apparently). Tricolor males were genetic anomalies that were almost always infertile. Unusual, but convenient. You didn't have to get them snipped now (a process you despised even though it was a necessary evil). They seemed to be missing their preventative shots, so a vet visit was still in the future, but all the worst of that experience could be forgone!

Not that you would have gotten them declawed anyway: it was a beastly practice and you would never agree to it no matter how many couches your boys decided to ruin.

 _Your boys._ Fuck, you've known them for all of 15 minutes and you were already attached. You set the file down in the passenger seat, and began driving home.

The ride was peaceful. You had expected your new friends to start crying, as most cats did, but there was very little noise coming from them at all. Just a few sniffs and the occasional growl. You smiled. A cat that was well behaved during car rides was a rare thing, and one you wanted to exploit. Maybe you could take them along when you ran errands, or went out for fast food, or-

You felt something soft brush your arm.

You couldn't take your eyes off the road quite yet, but as soon as you stopped at the red light, you looked down. The cats were out of the carrier! Boss was now sitting shotgun, looking out the window disdainfully, his tail swishing with his irritation. His brother was inspecting the radio (his tail had been what brushed against you, the long fur just barely grazing against your arm, as though he had been pointedly trying not to touch you, but wasn't fully capable of compensating for the length of his fur). You watched in silent amazement. Most cats couldn't figure out how to use zippers (which was why many comfort carriers like the one you got from the shelter utilized them), and yet these two gotten out not only quickly, but quietly.

Boss' brother pawed at the radio, switching it on. Led Zepplin drifted from the speakers, only a few seconds into the song Kashmir. You watched as the furry, chubby cat broke into a grin, his fake tooth glinting in the sunlight. Boss whipped his head around, hissing and yowling. His brother's ears twitched, but his grin didn't falter. He started to bob his head in time with the percussion, mewling something in response to Boss. Boss sniffed, but turned back to keep watch out the window.

You should have been panicking. Your new charges were roaming freely in a soon-to-be-moving vehicle. However, their behavior made you think they were used to car rides, knowing what was and was not acceptable behavior while you were driving. It didn't help that you were less than impressed with your new cat's taste in music: Led Zepplin wasn't your favorite, by any means, the style just not speaking to your aesthetics no matter how you tried.

Even so, you let the song play out, amused by how riveted your furry friend was.

Oh, you should probably start thinking of a name for him.

 _Fluffy?_ He was quite fluffy, his fur thick and long like a main coons, even if he was half the usual size of one. _Nosy?_ He did keep tabs on everything, his red eye (you couldn't call it brown, not when you could see the flecks of ruby and crimson now glinting in the sunlight, sparkling like how you always imagined magic might look) occasionally turning to watch you as you kept driving. _Butch?_ He did give you the impression of a buff muscle man. _Potato?_ His mild chub, along with his first impression, made you think he was a laid back, lazy cat who was fond of napping in sunbeams.

...

None of these names seemed to fit. You _could_ just call him Red, for his eyes and dyed fur, but that felt like a cop-out to you. There had to be something better, right?

You stopped at another red light, and looked again at the furball. He was still grinning, his jaws parted in that way cats did to smell, as though he were drinking in the music. Your eyes were drawn to his implant.

"Fang," you said out loud. "I'll call you Fang."

The smaller cat, now Fang, turned his head to look at you, his mouth snapping shut. His one good eye scrutinized you, as though he were able to see into your soul. After a moment, he looked away, shifting his weight and settling on the passenger seat more, curling up to doze with an irritated huff.

You chuckled, imagining that he didn't particularly like the name, but that it wasn't so bad he cared enough to complain about it. As you continued driving, you realized you had let your imagination go rather wild since meeting Fang and Boss: you kept imaging them having conversations, feeling as though their intelligent, knowing eyes were judging you, that perhaps they actually understood what you were saying. And while, yes, you usually did that with all the animals you interacted with on a certain level, it had never felt quite so real as it did with them.

You shook your head. You could have any fantasy you damn well pleased. If you wanted to pretend your new cats were smart-asses, you were going to pretend they were smart-asses. And if you wanted to enjoy the idea that you could have an intelligent (if one sided) conversation with them, then by god you were going to. You were an adult, you could do whatever you fucking wanted.

Even if it was logically a ridiculous notion: after all, even the smartest of cats was still... just a cat...

You pushed back that sobering thought as you pulled into the driveway of your house.

"Alright, boys, here we are: home sweet home. It ain't much, but I hope ya like it." You unbuckled your seatbelt, watching the cats. Boss settled back into the seat, the tip of his tail flicking irritably. Then, to your surprise, he launched himself onto your shoulder, settling his negligible weight in just the right way so you would both remain balanced. You could feel the soft, silken texture of his short, thick fur as his tail wrapped around your neck. He made a noise, almost like a command, and you couldn't help but smile. "You got it, Boss," you said.

Stuffing your keys in your pocket, you carefully scooped up Fang, and slid out of the car. As you moved, Boss maintained his balance flawlessly. Fang made a small noise of protest, starting to thrash and brandish his claws, but went limp in your arms after Boss growled warningly at him. You snickered, closing the car door. Shifting Fang to a one armed hold, you pulled out your keys again, cycling through them until you got your house key. You noticed Boss had a keen interest in the keys, so you showed him the house key up close. You watched with fascination as he delicately pawed at it, paying attention to the teeth and grooves in the side. When he pulled his paw back, you used the key and entered the house.

Boss immediately leapt from your shoulder and began to inspect the building. You set Fang down, kicking the door shut behind you, and went to sit on the couch to watch the boys explore.

Boss marched up and down the length of the room, stopping here and there to glower disapprovingly. He seemed particularly upset by the bits of trash, food, and clutter that dotted the floor and every other available surface (you were not a tidy person). He kept making that loud, yowling noise, like he was screaming at something (or someone). You liked it -- a vocal cat had a larger presence, and that was exactly what you wanted, a presence to fill the emptiness. As you sat there, following the cats with your eyes, you knew that you couldn't have found better than Boss for that.

Strangely enough, each of Boss' noises was answered by his brother, who kept close to his heals, following him lazily. Fang didn't seem to mind the mess, sometimes batting at a piece of paper here, or sniffing at a crumb there. His vocalizations were deeper, but softer. At one point, Boss made a high pitched yowl, loud and direct, which was followed by a breathy wheezing from Fang which you swore to every god in existence was _laughter_. Boss then swatted at his brother's head, which he dodged without issue.

A growl from much closer drew your attention, and you looked down at your stomach like it offended you. You got up, sighing, because you knew you also had to feed the boys, and you weren't looking forward to the smell of the catfood.

Wait. You forgot to get catfood.

Cursing your lack of forethought, you went into the kitchen and began rummaging in the fridge for something safe for feline consumption. You knew cats were carnivores, although you had seen a fair number of them enjoy cheese and pastries. That being said, you should probably stick to meats for the time being. You needed to feed yourself too, anyway, so you pulled out the hotdogs.

Hotdogs weren't that much work to cook (one of the reasons you had them at all), just needing a big pot of boiling water. You dumped in four (one for each of your new house mates, and then two for yourself), and turned on the stove. You turned around, only to be startled by three red eyes staring at you from the floor. You smiled. "I'm making dinner. I forgot to get catfood, so we'll all be enjoying some hotdogs tonight."

Boss snarled in outrage, but Fang looked pleasantly surprised. You giggled, kneeling down to sit on the floor at their level. You had some time to kill before the food was done. "So, what did you think of the house?" You asked, not expecting an answer, but that had never stopped you from talking to cats before.

Boss, however, didn't seem to care about your expectations, because he immediately went off, yowling and meowing and hissing in distinct patterns as he paced back and forth in front of you, his tail held at an angle, curved slightly, showing he wasn't feeling threatened, but wanted to appear threatening. You couldn't help but imagine a drill sergeant, hands held behind his back as he went up and down the line of his soldiers, barking orders and criticism. You imagined Boss would be tall, domineering, the type to be heard without the need for a microphone. After what must have been 5 minutes, he stopped in front of you, sitting, poised and expectant. When you just looked at him, he growled low, as though ordering you to respond to him.

You chuckled. "I take it thats a no?" You got another growl in response, which made you laugh harder. "Okay, okay, maybe I am a bit of a slob, but yer _cats_ , so ya have completely different standards of clean, anyway!"

Boss growled even more, starting to yowl at you again, but you heard the faint popping of boiling water. You stood up, looking down into the pot to see your hotdogs had finished. You turned off the stove, got out three plates, set the four hotdogs on one of them, got a knife, and a fork, and sat down at the table. You started to cut up two of the hotdogs, wanting the pieces small enough for your kitties to be able to consume, and distributed the pieces on the plates.

Fang jumped up on the table, watching your hand as it wielded the knife clumsily, delicately, as though you were afraid of hurting yourself (which, lets be honest, you were). Boss, after another long growl, jumped up onto the table as well, surveying your actions with the intense scrutiny you were beginning to think was his default. You grinned, a tightness in your chest loosening for the first time in over a year: you weren't alone anymore.

You finished cutting up the meat, and pushed your kitties' plates over to them gently. Boss sniffed his offering, disdainfully, turning his nose up at it. Fang didn't even bother to sniff, scarfing down one piece after another. You grinned. _That was one more reason to call him Fang -- the boy could eat!_ You got up, turning your back to the table as you dug into the fridge for your little container of condiment packages. You collected them whenever you went out to eat, so you had a little of everything (even stuff you didn't particularly like).

You came back over, setting the sizable ceramic bowl you used to keep the packets from roaming freely in your fridge, and dug through them to find the ketchup. You set a few mustard, hot sauce, and soy sauce packets aside, not wanting to bother with them since you weren't a fan, digging down until you finally reached your last reserves of ketchup.

Boss continued to glare dubiously at his plate, tail swishing back and forth as he meowed grouchy protests. You sighed in mock exasperation. "Sorry, Boss, but this is honestly the best I can do at the moment. Yer welcome ta eat it or not, but 'til I go to the store, there ain't much else. Unless ya like noodles. I can heat up some from a ramen bag, but ya ain't gettin' the flavoring 'cause that'll reck yer shit."

You were mostly kidding, just trying to have a conversation, but at the mention of 'noodles,' Boss' eyes glinted with recognition, and you knew you weren't getting out of it. He meowed insistently, giving you the stink eye. You took a bite of your hotdog, then sighed, getting up and putting another, smaller pot of water on the stove. It was worth a shot to get Boss to eat, even if it wasn't the most healthy choice. Behind you, you heard Boss growl something, and Fang make a soft reply. You smiled, listening to their 'conversation' as you broke open the ramen packet and dumped the noodle brick into the water, tossing the flavor packet on the counter for some unknown use later.

When you turned back around, Fang had finished his own hotdog. He was reaching out for a packet of mustard, his sharp claws glinting dangerously, more than enough to shred the packet and release the contents. You screamed, "No!" and dove, snatching the packet away from his reach, scooping up all the condiments and throwing them into the bowl. "No! Ya can't have this, it'll make ya sick!"

Boss started making that breathy, laughing like noise, while Fang snarled in frustration. He swung at you, scratching at your hand and arm in an attempt to make you drop the condiments. You hissed in pain, certain he had drawn blood. You backed away, putting the condiments back in the fridge. "No arguments. I'm not letting ya poison yerself, furball. Cats can't have mustard." You took this moment to look at your arm. "Ow..." It was streaked with dozens of short, deep lacerations, oozing red in steady rivulets. You licked at the blood, watching the cuts revealed quickly replace what you had removed. With a sigh, you stuck your arm in the sink and rinsed it all off, patting it down with a paper towel.

You heard the noodle water boil. Turning off the stove again, you poured the water out and dumped the noodles into a bowl. You then sat it on the table as you resumed your seat. "Careful, its hot," You said, picking your own dinner back up and eating. You saw you were still bleeding, but there wasn't much you could do about it with what you had in the kitchen, and you didn't care enough to go to the bathroom. At least, not until you were done eating.

Boss looked at the bowl of noodles, growling softly as he sat there waiting. Fang had somehow pushed and pulled the plate you had left for Boss over to his side of the table, and was eating, albeit with less enthusiasm. He finished the last of the hotdog, and licked his chops. He then looked at you, thoughtfully.

You finished off the last of your own hotdogs. With a sigh, you picked up the now empty plates and took them to the sink to be washed (later). You came back, sitting down to watch Boss as he investigated his offering of noodles.

Fang began to edge closer to you, subtly, until he was within arms reach. He made a low, rumbling noise, not quite a growl, but not quite a meow either. You looked at him, smiling softly. "Apology accepted, buddy," you said, indulging yourself in your fantasy. You reached out with your injured arm, and ran your fingers through the fur between his ears, your palm pressing gently down on his damaged ear. He was soft, just like Boss. You let your fingers creep lower, following the curve of his skull down to bury your fingertips in the fur of his neck, which flared out in that manner that bushy cats always seemed to do, mimicking a mane. You wove your fingers through it, massaging the skin beneath. "I'm gonna need to get a brush for you aren't I? No way you're gonna be able ta manage all this fur by yourself..." You heard another deep rumble, felt Fang lean into your hand as his eyes drifted shut. "You are a handsome cat, you know that? Bet ya gotta beat the girls off with a stick..." You scratched carefully behind his bad ear with your thumb, delighted when the low rumbling purr grew louder.

Boss made a loud yowl. Fang jerked, pulling away from you, making a soft mewl before going quiet. You looked at Boss, raising an eyebrow. Most of his noodles were gone. "What? Are you jealous? I can appreciate your brother without thinking less of you, ya know. Its not like you're any less great. Or, maybe you want pet too?"

Boss went rigid, his eyes going wide as his pupils narrowed to slits. He immediately bounded off the table, yowling over his shoulder as he ran off, supposedly to hide. You snickered. "Not the cuddly type, is he? Thats fine." You picked up Fang, nuzzling into his neck fur. "I'll just cuddle you instead."

The cat in your arms went limp, letting you adjust him as you pleased. You walked into the livingroom, settling on the couch with Fang held against your chest, breathing in his smell. You always loved how cats smelled, each one slightly different. Fang reminded you of leather and sweat, which was a new one for you. You liked it. Stroking his back, you closed you eyes and began to drift.

You weren't alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Papyrus is "Boss"  
> And Sans is "Fang"
> 
> Boss is appalled by the state of your house.
> 
> Fang is very passionate about food. And has a weakness for scratches apparently?
> 
> I'm wondering if I should write these from the kitties POV or not... I can see in my head what they are saying (in general) but it might not be as easy for you guys.


	3. From A Cat's Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> See this first day with you from your furry friend's perspective.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did this in like 4 hours, because I couldn't sleep.  
> Now I'm exhausted and am going to bed.

Sans was so fucking tired.

Oh, he had been pretty tired for most of his life. Tired of fighting. Tired of the constant, gritty taste of Dust in the air. Tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Tired of looking over his shoulder, fearing that one lapse in judgement that would get his 1 HP ass killed.

Tired of wondering if his brother would come home alive.

Sans had been tired before, but this was different. He couldn't feel his magic. He could barely feel his SOUL. It was like he had been emptied out of everything, and all that was left was a husk of his former self, left to waste away.

It might have been bearable if he wasn't also stuck in a world he didn't know, in a body that wasn't supposed to be his.

His thoughts drifted back to how this all started.

Sans had been finagling with that stupid piece of junk he still kept in his basement lab, trying (futilely) to get the piece of shit to work. He couldn't quite remember _why_ he was so driven to get it working, but that hole in his memory was another reason that spurred him on, when he wasn't wallowing in his self deprecation and nihilism.

Sans had spent a few hours working on the damn thing, and in his frustration had kicked it.

Papyrus had come down to scream at him that it was time for dinner, and if he didn't get his ass back into the house to eat he wasn't going to have much of one for very long.

Sans had turned back to Papyrus, and promptly told him he didn't have an ass anyway (being a skeleton).

Papyrus had screeched. Sans had laughed, feeling better.

And then-

Then Sans was eating asphalt. He hadn't even known what hit him.

Sans had woken up, face down in a disgusting alley surrounded by garbage.

Sans had woken up, feeling heavy, like he was wearing a bunch of coats all at once.

Sans had tried to stand up, and found his body wasn't functioning the way he had expected. He had fallen back down, groaning because he was suddenly aware of how sore he felt.

Sans had looked down at his hands, and found not hands, but _paws_. Furry paws. Cat paws.

Sans had been a skeleton all his life. And suddenly he was a cat.

Sans had stood up, trembling on limbs that just didn't feel right. He shivered at the textile sensation of cement under his paws, how different it felt when he had skin. Then he had opened his eyes, and was thankful that his eyesight wasn't much different at least. He had blinked, hissing (literally, not his usual grouchy hiss) at the brightness, which made his head hurt. It had taken him a few minutes to adjust.

As he did, Sans realized the air tasted different. Not _'there is a strange new kind of garbage sitting next to me and I have no idea how to identify it'_ different, (although that was entirely true), but _'there is a distinct absence of a certain sandy, somber taste that had always been present before.'_ Sans had opened his eyes wide. The air was completely devoid of Dust. He looked up. And high above the buildings that towered over him was blue.

Sans had looked around himself until he saw the end of the alley, where it opened up to what looked like a street. He had scrambled for it, forcing his weird new body to move as fast as possible until he was out of the alley.

Once out from the shadow of the buildings, Sans had seen a blindingly bright ball of light, hanging in an expanse of brilliant blue that stretched as far as the eye could see. Sans had sat there, frozen in shock.

Sans had woken up, _on the surface_.

He had cried, messy colorless tears seeping into his new fur.

Thats when he had heard it -- a loud yowl, overshadowed in his mind by the familiar voice of his brother screaming his name.

Sans had turned back around and stumbled back into the alley, following the sound until he had come upon another cat. Until he had come upon his brother, afflicted with the same strange curse as he himself.

Papyrus had followed Sans out of the alley, and he too had cried.

Sans and Papyrus had stayed in that alley for a full day, adjusting to their new bodies. They were both relieved to find that their magic had been relatively unaffected.

Relatively being the operative word.

They had it, it was still a part of them, and they could call upon it and use it just as they always could... But it was draining fast. There wasn't any magic in the air to replenish with. None of the food Sans was able to find would rejuvenate their magical reserves.

After a week, both of them were completely drained.

Two days after that, a human had captured them, locked them up, and brought them to the animal shelter.

Papyrus had been livid, snarling and hissing and sputtering. When the human had tried to bath them, Sans had fought tooth and nail, desperate to get back to his brother and free them both. He must have made his point, because after his rather short bath the humans had placed him and Papyrus in the same enclosure.

Sans was so proud to see his brother had left the human who had dared to manhandle him in an even worse state than Sans had left his own.

Speaking of which: Sans heard the muffled footsteps of one of the humans approaching. No, not one, two. He listened, sensing with both his hearing and his SOUL. _Ah, it was that asshole, the one who had given him a bath, and... someone new?_ Sans opened his eyes, locking onto the newcomer swiftly through the glass window.

You were looking back at him, your gaze filled with a kind of awe and respect Sans hadn't been shown before. He looked back at you, searching for some sign, _something_ to tell him what you wanted, what your game was.

The Asshole said something. The sound was muffled too much to make out the words, but Sans could read his lips: "You looking at the two in the back? We picked them up a few days ago off the street. They're practically feral..."

You turned around to face him, so Sans didn't catch what you said. The Asshole glanced back at Sans, who shot him a glare he hoped reminded him what happened during their last encounter. The Asshole then responded to you: "Thats because you never tried giving them a bath. They are monsters. Furry little monsters."

Sans snickered at that, however, his mood turned dark when he saw him say, "I wouldn't be surprised if we put them down soon..."

Sans felt his SOUL freeze. Like hell he was going to let some filthy human dust him and his brother! He felt his fur puff out with his rage, drawing his brother's attention.

You had said something, making the Asshole's face contort in horror. He replied: "I told you, they're not good. I must recommend you pick another-"

You interrupted him, pointing into the enclosure, at _them_ , willfully, and Sans watched as the Asshole shrank back from you. The Asshole said something as he fiddled with the enclosure door: "I'll go get a crate... but, uh, you can put them in there..."

You smiled, slipping through the door and heading towards them. Boss had caught on to your presence now, and Sans could feel him bristling with intent, as though he could intimidate you into keeping your distance. You continued your approach, each step made with care, your body language and intent clearly set to placate them. A glimmer of sadness flit over your face.

Sans didn't trust you.

You came to a stop a few feet away, settling down on your butt to regard them with a soft smile. "Hi there," you said calmly, holding your hand out to them, palm up. "I'm _______, nice ta meet ya! How about you guys come home with me? Sound good?"

Sans and Papyrus both snarled at the same time. Papyrus was furious. "HOW FUCKING DARE YOU, HUMAN, COME WALTZING IN HERE AND ASSUME THAT THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS WOULD BOW TO YOUR WHIMS! BEGONE!"

You just sat there, regarding them calmly, completely unfazed by their malicious intent. Sans pushed himself to his feet (paws), stretching in a way he had quickly learned was immensely satisfying, and began to approach you. "heh, they can't hear us, so i guess i better show 'm what we think of their lil invitation..." He flexed his claws, bracing himself for the FIGHT.

Papyrus lashed out, smacking Sans upside the head. "WHO THE FUCK SAID YOU WERE ALLOWED TO ATTACK?!" Papyrus snapped, louring down at Sans with his elegant paw still poised, ready to strike again if necessary (even as a cat Papyrus was tall, regal, and just plain cool).

"but boss-"

"I DON'T NEED YOU'RE HELP! I CAN HANDLE THIS PIECE OF SHIT WITHOUT YOU!!!"

Sans sighed, letting his intent fade. He shrank in on himself, his way of letting his brother know he wouldn't argue.

"You tell 'em, boss," you said between giggles.

Sans and Papyrus both froze, looking back at you with surprise.

You grinned at them, your eyes locked on Papyrus. "What, is that your name? Boss?"

Sans looked at his brother from the corner of his eye. Oh, he saw it now: that smug, proud expression, so strange on his new cat face, but still so familiar. He was loving it, being regarded with difference. Papyrus put his upraised paw down, regarding you more intently.

You grinned wider. "It suits ya, don't it? The way ya move, ya just feel like a 'Boss'. Bet nobody fucks with _you_ , huh? Not unless they want their blood in yer fur."

Sans heard the soft rumblings of delight from his brother. He had always been weak to praise, it was his achilles heel. And you were digging into it mercilessly. Sans ground his teeth. He still didn't trust you.

Just then the door opened and the Asshole came in, carrying a large cloth cat carrier. He set it down next to you. "Are you _sure_ you want _these_ little monsters?" He asked.

Papyrus went very quiet, bristling, his tail swishing again in irritation as he regarded the Asshole with undisguised ire.

You looked at the Asshole with almost as much hate in your own eyes. "Who in their right mind would _not_ want such handsome cats?" You looked back at Papyrus, smiling apologetically. "I'm sorry, Boss. Some people just don't have an eye fer quality."

You finally pulled your extended hand back, patting the carrier gently. "Hows about I get you guys outa here? This is no place fer you. I can't guarantee my house will meet yer standards, but it's gotta be better than here, right?"

"I'LL ALLOW IT," Papyrus said after a moment, watching as you unzipped the top flap of the carrier. "YOU MAY HAVE THE HONOR OF BEING MY HUMAN SLAVE. FEEL THE APPROPRIATE AMOUNT OF GRATITUDE, WHICH IS TO SAY ALL OF IT."

When you reached out, slowly, to scoop up Papyrus with reverence, he didn't fight you. You smiled down at him, holding him for a moment as if you were overwhelmed by his presence, which made Papyrus that much more smug about the whole situation.

Sans watched you set Papyrus down in the carrier. When you stroked his back, Papyrus growled, "I DID NOT GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO TOUCH ME LIKE THAT, SLAVE!!" You almost immediately pulled your hand away.

Sans knew you couldn't understand them, and yet what little you could read from them made it so you still treated them appropriately. He still didn't trust you.

You smiled happily, watching Papyrus as he made himself comfortable in the carrier, as though making sure he didn't need anything else, before turning back to face Sans.

Sans growled as you picked him up. "one wrong move, an' i'm gonna have a great time tearing ya apart," he hissed at you. However, he didn't fight you. Papyrus had taken a liking to you, and this _would_ get them out of this facility, away from the Asshole who wanted to dust them. As much as it stung Sans' pride, he couldn't fight the humans without his magic, so he couldn't protect his brother on his own.

So Sans begrudgingly, _oh so begrudgingly_ , let you put him in the carrier. He had to admit that you were at least careful about it.

"Watch yer heads, okay? And I promise, I'll try ta make this ride as smooth as possible," you said, looking into the carrier at them.

"yeah, yeah," Sans muttered, a rumbling growl emanating from his chest as he made himself comfortable. With Papyrus in there with him, the carrier was a bit snug, so it took some finagling for him to find a position he found suitable. His fucking tail was the hardest to round up (Sans didn't know how his brother did it, making it look so easy to maneuver with this new appendage. Then again Papyrus was just the best at everything, so he shouldn't be surprised that he mastered managing his tail so soon).

You looked back over your shoulder at the Asshole, who was gaping at you, as you closed the top flap. "See? I told you," you said with a sickly sweet smugness, borderline triumphant lilt. Then, right before lifting the carrier, you said, "They are _purr_ fectly lovely creatures."

Sans couldn't help his laughter.

"FOR FUCKS SAKE, NOT YOU TOO, SLAVE!!!" Papyrus yowled.

Maybe Sans had nothing to worry about. After all, someone who likes bad jokes can't be all bad.

Right?

Sans tried to stay calm as you carried them out of the building (after doing something like paperwork at the front desk, adoption forms it sounded like) and set them in your car. The ride was smooth, so he started to drift off, again feeling the weight of his exhaustion.

"SANS!" Papyrus snapped, drawing his attention. "THE SLAVE HAS FORGOTTEN TO OPEN THIS CARRIAGE!! OPEN IT NOW!"

Sans sighed. So much for a nap. "on it, boss..." He pushed himself up, and looked to see why Papyrus didn't just open it himself. He saw the problem immediately: the zipper was on the opposite end of the carrier from Papyrus, right above Sans' head. Papyrus couldn't reach it with his current body type, since the carrier was too small to let him maneuver around Sans.

Sans began the tedious task of pawing at the zipper, inching it open bit by bit. he once again cursed his lack of magical reserves, which would have made this infinitely easier to accomplish. After a few minutes the opening was wide enough that Sans could push his paw through. He reached up and pushed on the zipper from the outside, speeding up the process until he couldn't push it any further without smashing into Papyrus.

Papyrus took it from there, reaching up and pulling the zipper open further until the carrier was once more completely open.

Sans let Papyrus go first, then he jumped out and stretched, feeling much better for it.

Papyrus made the jump to the front seat (because they were set in the back) and started looking out the window. He was probably looking at street signs (something Sans was very much thankful the humans had -- it made learning the layout of the area much easier). Sans caught sight of the radio, and, drawn to it, made his way over carefully, trying not to draw your attention.

Sans felt the vehicle decelerate, and adjusted his balance appropriately so he didn't go falling over. He was rather proud of how much better he was getting with his new body. The radio still had his attention (he was quickly determining how to operate it, the setup being unfamiliar but the labels making it a simple task), but he noticed you watching him from the corner of his eyes. He decided that unless you made a move, he would ignore you.

Sans finished his analysis of the radio, and used his paw to switch it on. A familiar song drifted softly through the speakers. He grinned. _Fuck yeah! Led Zepplin!_

Papyrus groaned (although it came out as a hiss). "WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU LISTENING TO THAT GARBAGE?!"

Sans sighed inwardly. His brother had no taste in entertainment (case in point -- he liked Mettaton's work). However, that didn't stop Sans from enjoying the music.

The car began moving again. Sans glanced at you every so often, concerned about that thoughtful look on your face. Nothing seemed to come of it, so he went back to enjoying the music.

Then he heard you say, "Fang. I'll call you Fang."

Sans snapped his head all the way around to look at you. _You did not just name him Fang. Fang? Really? That's the best you could come up with?!_ Sans heard a soft snicker come from his brother, who was clearly amused by the choice. Sans sighed, shifting closer to Papyrus in the passengers seat and curling up. He supposed it could have been worse: you could have named him something like Fluffy.

You chuckled. Sans ignored it.

The rest of the ride was made in companionable silence, except for the gentle play of the radio (which you either had the good taste or the decency not to change). Sans kept his ears open, listening to the sounds of the city slowly turn to that of a suburb. He thought it was much like the difference between Hotland and Snowdin. The comparison brought him a modicum of comfort.

The car came to a complete stop, the engine cutting out.

"Alright, boys," you said brightly, unbuckling yourself, "Here we are: home sweet home. It ain't much, but I hope ya like it."

Papyrus settled back into the seat, the tip of his tail flicking irritably. "ABOUT DAMN TIME," He muttered. He launched himself onto your shoulder, shifting his elegant frame to maintain both his balance and yours. Wrapping his tail around your neck like he was gripping you, he huffed. "WELL? ONWARD, SLAVE!"

"You got it, Boss," you said with a smile. You apparently didn't mind being ridden.

Sans got up to follow after you, used to coming up the rear, but you scooped him up. Sans froze from shock, not expecting it, then began to thrash. "lemme down ya sonova-"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP SANS!" Papyrus snapped. "DO NOT DAMAGE MY SLAVE!"

Sans twitched, but he went obediently limp. You snickered, and Sans shot you a dirty look (which you didn't even see, since you were busy closing your car door).

You shifted Sans to a one-arm hold, and Sans found that if he ignored your smell, it was almost like being carried by Papyrus. He looked up at you, watching you cycle through your dinky ass key ring. He saw the interest in his brother's eyes, and apparently so did you, because you held your keys out for him to examine. Papyrus went about swiftly memorizing what the key looked like, probably in case he needed to use it.

Then you entered the house.

Papyrus immediately leapt from your shoulder and began to inspect the building. You set Sans down, kicking the door shut behind you, and went to sit on the couch to watch them with thinly veiled interest.

Papyrus marched up and down the length of the room, stopping here and there to glower disapprovingly. Sans fell in step behind him.

"THERE ARE CRUMBS EVERYWHERE!!" Papyrus snarled.

"kinda crummy, huh?" Sans said offhandedly.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS STAIN?! DO I EVEN WHAT TO KNOW?!"

" _carpet_ not."

"ARE THESE RECEIPTS?! WHY ARE THEY CRUMPLED ON THE FLOOR?! WHY ARE THEY NOT FILED AWAY?!"

"its pretty terri _file_ ing."

"FUCKING HELL THERE IS HALF A GODDAMN COOKIE HERE!! HUMANS ARE FUCKING DISGUSTING!!"

"oh, the humanity!"

"GOD DAMN IT SANS!!!!!"

Sans broke down into laughter. Papyrus swiped at him. Sans stepped lazily to the side, avoiding the hit, which only made his brother fume and turn away, stomping off to screech wordlessly in irritation.

Sans smiled softly. He could already tell that you were not a tidy person, and living in a house like this was going to drive his brother insane. But, at least it seemed safe. The worst he had seen so far was a single piece of broken glass, so small he figured you must have broken something and missed it hidden in the fibers of the carpet. It was right up against the TV stand, well out of the way of foot traffic, so he didn't think it would be an issue.

A growling noise brought Sans' attention back to you. You were looking down at your stomach like it offended you. With a sigh, you stood up and headed for another room.

Sans followed after you quietly, Papyrus catching on and moving to do the same. The room you had slunk off to looked like a kitchen. You were waist deep in the fridge when they caught sight of you. Not noticing that you were being watched, you pulled away from the fridge, something in you hand, and went to the stove. You produced a pot from one of the shelves and filled it with water, then dumped something into the pot and turned the stove on.

When you turned back around and caught sight of them you smiled reassuringly. "I'm making dinner. I forgot to get catfood, so we'll all be enjoying some hotdogs tonight."

"HOTDOGS! FUCK THAT! MAKE SOME FUCKING LASAGNA, SLAVE!!" Papyrus snarled.

Sans for his part was actually excited to eat some real food (especially if it was something familiar like hotdogs). He and Papyrus had had nothing offered them but the 'catfood' at the shelter for a few days, and neither one of them could stomach the stuff.

You giggled, kneeling down to sit on the floor at their level. "So, what did you think of the house?" You asked.

Papyrus, even knowing you couldn't understand him, jumped to answer. "THIS PLACE IS A FUCKING DISASTER ZONE!!!" He screamed, starting to pace. "THERE ARE FOOD PARTICLES EVERYWHERE, THE DUST HAS ACCUMULATED TO LEVELS OF UNSANITARY THAT EVEN THE MOST VULGAR OF MONSTERS WOULD CONSIDER OBSCENE!! YOU HAVE LEFT GARBAGE EVERYWHERE!! THIS IS ABSOLUTELY FUCKING UNACCEPTABLE!! THERE ARE ENOUGH CRUMBS GROUND INTO THAT FUCKING CARPET TO FEED ALL OF TEMMIE VILLAGE FOR A WEEK!! NOT TO MENTION THE STAINS!! WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EVEN DO?!?! DON'T ANSWER THAT, I DON'T EVEN WANT TO FUCKING KNOW!! HUMANS ARE SO FUCKING DISGUSTING, ARE YOU ALL AS SLOVENLY AS THIS?! AND THATS ONLY THE FUCKING LIVINGROOM!! I CAN ONLY IMAGINE THE HORRORS YOU HAVE LEFT TO TORMENT ME WITH IN THE REST OF THIS REVOLTING HOUSE!!! THIS PLACE NEEDS SCRUBBED, VACUUMED, SWEPT, POLISHED, AND ORGANIZED LIKE I HAVE NEVER SEEN!!!!!"

You chuckled. "I take it thats a no?"

"FUCK YOU!!!!"

You laugh harder. "Okay, okay, maybe I am a bit of a slob, but yer _cats_ , so ya have completely different standards of clean, anyway!"

"THIS ISN'T EVEN ABOUT CLEAN ANYMORE, SLAVE!!! THIS IS ABOUT SANITATION!!! IF YOU DO NOT HAVE THAT FUCKING CARPET DEEP CLEANED BY THIS TIME TOMORROW I WILL RIP IT OFF THE FUCKING FLOOR WITH MY B- DON'T YOU WALK AWAY FROM ME!!!"

But you were pulling out the hotdogs from the pot now. You turned off the stove, got out three plates, set the four hotdogs on one of them, got a knife, and a fork, and sat down at the table. Then you started to cut up two of the hotdogs into bite sized pieces.

Sans jumped up on the table, not trusting you out of his sight with a weapon (even if it was cutlery). He watched you carefully, but was pleased when he saw how uncomfortable you were with the weapon, your motions choppy (heh) and hesitant.

"THIS IS NOT OVER, SLAVE!" Papyrus snarled, jumping up to wait for his dinner. He surveyed your actions with intense scrutiny, still not pleased with the menu. You only grinned, like this was the happiest day of your life.

You finished cutting up the meat, then pushed their plates over to them gently. Papyrus sniffed his offering, disdainfully, turning his nose up at it. Sans dug in gratefully, almost melting at the taste. It wasn't as good as his grilled hotcats, but it was a hell of a lot better than the shit he and Papyrus had been living off of since getting dumped in that alley. 

You got up, turning your back to the table as you dug into the fridge for something. You came back over, setting a sizable ceramic bowl filled with tiny packets, and dug it. You started setting some of the packets aside on the table, digging for something specific. Sans didn't think much of it, preferring to enjoy his own food in peace.

"THIS GREASY SHIT IS UNACCEPTABLE!! SLAVE, I DEMAND YOU PROVIDE ACCEPTABLE NOURISHMENT IMMEDIATELY!!" Papyrus growled, tail swishing behind him.

You sighed in mock exasperation. "Sorry, Boss, but this is honestly the best I can do at the moment. Yer welcome ta eat it or not, but 'til I go to the store, there ain't much else. Unless ya like noodles. I can heat up some from a ramen bag, but ya ain't gettin' the flavoring 'cause that'll reck yer shit."

"NOODLES?! NOODLES ARE INFINITELY BETTER THAN THIS SHIT!! EVEN THOSE SALTY GARBAGE NOODLES ARE BETTER THAN THIS!! YOU WILL PROVIDE ME THESE NOODLES!!"

Sans looked up to watch your face. You looked conflicted, then resigned. You took a bite of your hotdog, then sighed, getting up and putting another, smaller pot of water on the stove.

"AT LEAST IT SEEMS TO BE TRAINABLE," Papyrus muttered. "SANS, DISPOSE OF THIS FILTH," he said, indicating the hotdog you had given him.

"on it, boss," Sans replied, swallowing the last of his own hotdog before going over to get his brother's. He sauntered over to nudge the plate to his side of the table, when his eye caught the pile of packages you had been fussing with earlier. They were labeled. Condiments. Soy Sauce. Hot Sauce. _Mustard! Fuck yeah!_ He licked his chops, and reached for it.

"No!" you screamed, snatching the packet away from his reach, scooping up all the condiments and throwing them into the bowl. "No! Ya can't have this, it'll make ya sick!"

Papyrus burst into uncontrollable laughter.

Sans didn't find it funny. "just gimme the fuckin' mustard, you dumb bitch!" He swung at you, scratching at your hand and arm in an attempt to make you drop the condiments.

You hissed in pain, but didn't let go, backing away to put them back in the fridge. "No arguments. I'm not letting ya poison yerself, furball. Cats can't have mustard."

Sans stopped. He hadn't know that mustard wasn't safe for cats. He wasn't certain if his body would respond as it used to, or if it would respond as a regular cat's. He could have easily poisoned himself, without even knowing it... and you saved him.

"Ow..."

Sans blinked out of his revery, looking up to you. Your arm was streaked with dozens of short, deep lacerations, oozing red in steady rivulets.

Sans had done that to you. _Shit._ He shook his head. You would strike him back in revenge, and that would be the end of it. He pulled Papyrus' plate to his side of the table, and started eating, even though he didn't really have much of an appetite anymore.

You rinsed the blood off, dried your arm, got Papyrus' noodles, and resumed your seat like nothing had happened, your smile back on your face. "Careful, its hot," You said, picking your own dinner back up and eating.

All Sans could think about was how _your blood was so fucking red_.

Papyrus looked at the bowl of noodles. "OF COURSE IT IS FUCKING HOT," he snorted. He waited patiently for them to cool, knowing his new body was a bit more sensitive to temperature than his original one.

Sans finished the last of the hotdog, and licked his chops. He then went back to watching you, pointedly avoiding looking at your arm. You finished your food, sighed, picked up yours and his empty plates, dumped them in the sink, came back, sitting down to watch Boss as he investigated his offering of noodles.

Sans inched his way closer to you, bit by bit. He stopped when he was within your range. "why?" he asked softly, the question rumbling in his chest. He wasn't sure what he was asking. _Why weren't you taking revenge? Why weren't you retaliating? Why did you try to protect him? Why did you bring them here?_ He supposed all of them.

You looked at him, smiling softly. "Apology accepted, buddy," you said. You reached out with your injured arm, and Sans braced for the blow, but instead of hitting him, you ran your fingers through the fur between his ears, your palm pressing gently down on his damaged one. Sans stared at you. He had almost forgotten you couldn't _really_ understand him. You were just good at reading them, but even you couldn't get it right all the time...

Your fingers crept lower, following the curve of his skull down to bury your fingertips in the fur of his neck, weaving your fingers through it, massaging the skin beneath. "I'm gonna need to get a brush for you aren't I? No way you're gonna be able ta manage all this fur by yourself..."

"ya wanna brush me? ya think i'll let ya just- _oh, shit-!_ " Sans leaned into your hand, his eyes drifting shut. _How the hell did that feel so good! Was this what they called a massage?! It was amazing!!_ All the ache and tension in his neck where you were touching seemed to melt away, leaving him feeling relaxed and contented. He felt a noise rumbling in his chest cavity, oscillating in a way that harmonized with his SOUL. He was purring, outright purring.

And Sans didn't give a damn.

"You are a handsome cat, you know that? Bet ya gotta beat the girls off with a stick..." You murmured, scratching carefully behind his bad ear with your thumb.

"you know it sweetheart," Sans groaned softly, his purring growing louder. "a little to the left, yeah, thats right, harder-"

"SANS!" Papyrus snapped.

Sans jerked away from you, wide eyed. _What the fuck was he doing?!_ He shouldn't be letting you touch him!! You weren't trustworthy, you were a human for fucks sake! "s-sorry boss..."

You looked at Boss, raising an eyebrow. "What? Are you jealous? I can appreciate your brother without thinking less of you, ya know. Its not like you're any less great. Or, maybe you want pet too?"

Papyrus went rigid, his eyes going wide as his pupils narrowed to slits. He immediately bounded off the table. "FUCK YOU!!" He snapped, running off.

You snickered. "Not the cuddly type, is he? Thats fine."

Then suddenly Sans was in your arms, your face buried in his neck. "I'll just cuddle you instead."

Sans went limp, not sure what to do. You weren't hurting him, you weren't hurting Papyrus...

You brought him into the living room and settled on the couch. Held to your chest, Sans was engulfed by your intent. It was soothing, welcoming, something wholly different than anything he had ever felt back home. The way you smoothed the fur on his back made that rumbling in his chest want to start up again. He didn't let it, still not certain what it was and not trusting it.

Sans watched you as you drifted off to sleep.

No, he couldn't trust you.

Yet.


End file.
